


everybody take it off!

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Series: THIS IS NOT A DRILL [2]
Category: Hockey RPF, Superstition - Superstition_hockey (Original Work)
Genre: Chatting & Messaging, Drunk Sex, Fictional collaborative writing, M/M, Meta, People writing fanfiction, Season of Kink 2019, Work Contains Fandom Elements, drunk strip tease, striptease, superstition by superstition_hockey - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 22:01:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20443247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: sweatpantsnopants:holy fucking shit they're married





	everybody take it off!

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Until the Whistle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12633378) by [Superstition_hockey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superstition_hockey/pseuds/Superstition_hockey). 

> For my Striptease square for 2019 Season of Kink. The title is from Take It Off by Kesha.

**sweatpantsnopants:**  
holy fucking shit they're married

**chantinghome:**  
?  
Did I miss the latest celeb news?

**sweatpantsnopants:**  
No.  
Yes.  
This isn't like you forgetting every royal baby.  
This is worse.  
Get thee to Luc's twitter  
Then commence screaming  
Speaking of, where's puck? I thought she'd try to wake us all up for it

**diquesdick:**  
how DRUNK ARE THEY

**sweatpantsnopants:**  
not too drunk to make sure their officiant and videographer didn't go to the media  
so: drunk enough to get married  
not too drunk enough to forget the NDA  
not too drunk enough to have video proof  
tldr this may not have been premeditated but this was NO ACCIDENT

**diquesdick:**  
I agree, no way this was planned, they both love their moms too much to elope on purpose. But I'm with you, NOT AN ACCIDENT.

**karlsgod:**  
a wonderful fine line to walk  
I take back everything I ever said about, well, everything  
Luc Chantal and Oliver Jackson have been married this entire time. Their entire lives in the NHL. While they played on different sides of the country for three years. They were married.  
Married.

**puckstothenet:**  
they're STILL married

**sweatpantsnopants:**  
oh there she is. Hi puck. Did you pass out from the squee?

**puckstothenet:**  
I'm actually in the grocery store standing in front of the bread aisle and wondering if I'm hallucinating  
A slasher's life never gets this good. I'm gonna apologize to every tinhat. No, wait, no I' not.  
he promised him HE'D TAKE A TRADE but not to the BLACKHAWKS jacks, my love of my life, you could not be more perfect  
I love their priorities  
I do not love everything that's about to happen with Svetlana 

**sweatpantsnopants:**  
Just blacklist any variation of homewrecker and you'll be fine  
Like, Chants sent Jacks in his place on a date with Sveta, they're _clearly_ all fine with this

**diquesdick:**  
which of you are writing me the fic called "five year plan accomplished, what's next is the porn"

**karlsgod:**  
I mean, I *wasn't*, but I can be convinced.

**chantinghome:**  
holy fucking shit none of you are lying to me THEY'RE ACTUALLY LEGALLY MARRIED

**sweatpantsnopants:**  
welcome back, chanting! Did you have a good time!

**chantinghome:**  
did I have a good time, she asks me  
I'm with pucks. I'm somewhere in a metaphorical grocery aisle, hallucinating a better world.  
Did the diques even win the cup? Do the diques even exist? How long have we been in this fugue?  
I did not have a good time. I'm questioning the very nature of existence.  
Luc Chantal and his drunken eyelashes needs to stop doing this to me.

**sweatpantsnopants:**  
Don't forget their hats.  
Their hats really make it.

**chantinghome:**  
I WAS TRYING TO.  
they'd only been drafted for three seconds how could they get those ballcaps that gross were they camping in the desert?  
did they miss their mouths with the river of alcohol they must have consumed and think they could get it into their bodies by pouring it onto themselves?

**puckstothenet:**  
What kind of porn are you thinking about, karl?

**karlsgod:**  
Well, it sounds like chat's consensus is that Chants and Jacks need to take off those hats.  
Guess I could make them take everything else off, too.

**puckstothenet:**  
everybody take it off!

**diquesdick:**  
wedding night sex = always so great

**sweatpantsnopants:**  
specially when they're that drunk  
Jacks: oops, sorry, Luc, that's not my dick. Try again.  
Luc: don't challenge me in bed! I'll find your dick faster than anyone ever has!  
Jacks: why am I in love with this guy?

**chantinghome:**  
I truly, honestly, sincerely believe that Oliver Jackson sometimes wakes up, looks at his husband and thinks, "why am I in love with this guy"  
But the great thing about Chants is that he never ever ever ever would think that about Jacks  
Opposites attract and make beautiful porn together

**karlsgod:**  
so, drunken sloppy handjobs they fall asleep during, y/y?

**diquesdick:**  
yyyyyyyy

**karlsgod:**  
k, I'll start it off. Jump in when the water's fine.  
Luc Chantal has probably been this drunk before, but he's never been this married before. He looks down at his phone to make sure he's got proof of the wedding to show to his parents and asks his husband (husband! Jacks! Who married him!) if he thinks they should wait to send it in the morning. "They're gonna want to skype, bro," Chants says, sounding exactly like an adult who is old enough to be married to his best friend of eleven years and boyfriend of five years.

**karlsgod:**  
"We can't show it to them while we're still drunk," Jacks points out sensibly, like a man who is about to beat out his husband (husband! Chants! Who married him!) to the Calder in another year and never regret a minute of the gloating he will inflict on instagram over it.

**karlsgod:**  
Luc adjusts his brand new Sharks cap and then, in a moment of sheer genius that has no parallel in the entire history of the NHL, symbolically switches his hat with Jacks's philly hat. What's Jacks's is his now, he reasons. They probably promised all of that to each other. Luc just remembers the important stuff: they promised they'd be bros forever and win a Cup together. There is no greater promise in this life.

**diquesdick:**  
"Chants, I have the best play," Jacks says. He pushes his Sharks cap-clad head against Luc's shoulder. "Chantssssss. Are you listening? We should get naked and fuck each other."

**karlsgod:**  
Luc nods seriously. This is an excellent play.

**puckstothenet:**  
"I think my clothes might be too complicated," Jacks says. "You hae to give me a chance to take them off for you. No rushing." Luc, as always, is great at following orders, and Jacks is always to see it. He pushes Luc down in the hotel room chair. "Sit down." Luc sits down like someone who won't get stripping lessons for two more years, but who believes fully in his heart that no one could ever strip as well as his husband (husband!!)

**sweatpantsnopants:**  
the stripping lessonnnnnnns  
oh fuck me now this is _in my head_

**karlsgod:**  
*doesn't so much pass the baton as shove it into your hands*

**sweatpantsnopants:**  
Jacks is wearing his favorite jeans, which mold perfectly to his body while still giving him room to move. He's caught Luc staring at his ass a statistically significant more number of times when he's wearing these jeans than when he's wearing anything else, even his hockey pads, and coming from Luc, that's a compliment so major, Jacks isn't shocked Luc has never figured out how to say it in words. But he doesn't need to say it in words. Jacks can see it all in his actions. Jacks had a lot of practice at reading body language since Luc Chantal and his cheekbones skated into his life. So Jacks teases at the belt loops as he unhooks the belt and slowly pulls it out. He can see Luc's eyes tracking the leather and Jacks grins widely. "Eyes up here," Jacks chides him and Luc's eyes jerk up guiltily.

"Sorry, Jacks," Luc says sincerely and he keeps his eyes properly on Jacks's boxer briefs as Jacks reveals them inch by inch. His cock is getting interested in the proceedings and Jacks runs a lazy hand over its length beneath the black fabric. Luc audibly swallows.

**puckstothenet:**  
Luc's getting hard, too, Jacks can see. 

**diquesdick:**  
Jacks is drunk enough to strip for his husband (husband!1! who let them do that! oh right the state of nevada!) but sober enough to want to make a show out of it. Usually they're grabbing chances wherever they can, with the added urgency of the rookie year looming over them when they'll only have skype dates most of the time. They haven't been able to keep their hands off each other this entire trip, but tonight is special, and Jacks is going to make it special. He's going to tease this out for the both of them. He's going to get Luc panting for his cock. Not that that's ever too difficult. Luc's never made any secret of how much he loves Jacks nor ever made a secret of how much he loves Jacks's cock.

**karlsgod:**  
So Jacks slides his hands down his thighs, watching as Luc's eyes track the action. Jacks swizzles his hips, a figure-eight motion intended to do far more than make him teeter and almost fall over. He's out of luck; Luc isn't too aroused to laugh at him. "You'll see if you're any better when it's your turn," Jacks tells his husband. He's willing to bet that's one competition that Luc *isn't* winning. Not that Jacks will tell him that. Then they'll both spend the entire night stripping and no one will get their hands on anyone's dicks and that would be a pure tragedy.

**puckstothenet:**  
Jacks rights himself, but there's no helping the jeans. He kicks them off, standing back up again in just his bare feet, his boxer briefs, his Team Red Shirt shirt, and his stolen (marital property!) Sharks baseball cap. He presses his thumbs into the elastic of his boxer briefs and teases them outward, only to let it snap backwards.

**sweatpantsnopants:**  
His dick is starting to tent his underwear.

**evinesc:**  
I come in at the best times

**puckstothenet:**  
Hi, evie! We're giving Chants and Jacks a wedding night!

**evinesc:**  
I can see that!

**diquesdick:**  
Jacks rubs at his cock, sliding his newly-beringed finger in a way to catch the light. They hadn't had a chance to get good wedding rings, but the ones they have are all the more erotic for the rush: it shows what they mean to each other, that rush of emotion, the thrill of being with each other, of being inside each other, of tying themselves together in every way, including, now, legally. They won't be able to wear the rings outside too much, but Jacks will always wear Luc in his heart. Their love isn't something that leaves time for ring shopping or wedding invitations. Their love is something rushed, something hidden, something that has them getting married with no notice in Las Vegas, with the veneer of alcohol to give them a pretext for it, so they can excuse it to their families as an impulse. But beneath it beats a heart that has loved Luc Chantal since the first time a pass ever connected, since the first time they won a game together, since the day Jacks slipped his hand into Luc's and stepped forward for their first media scrum. They've done everything together their whole lives. It only makes sense they'll do this together, too. They can't be rookies together on the same team anymore, but they can keep each other together every way they can until then.

**diquesdick:**  
(oops, feelings into the porn)

**karlsgod:**  
(would never have it any other way!)

**evinesc:**  
Jacks can smell it in the air, the stale overly-vacuumed overly-air-conditioned smell of a hotel room. Some of their best times have been in rooms like this, the two of them on the road together. Jacks stretches his arms over his head, knowing that Luc will be staring at his abs through his shirt all the while. He arches his back. When his eyes meet Luc's again, Luc's mouth is gaping open.

**karlsgod:**  
It's both flattering and satisfying to see the effect that Jacks can have on his husband with only the slightest of movements.

**puckstothenet:**  
Luc, for his part, can't take his eyes away. He has his hands down at his sides so he doesn't make a mess of his clothes before Jacks tells him it's his turn to take them off. He's gripping the fabric of the chair, his blunt nails sliding against the grain of the upholstery, and he feels like he's in a world that contains nothing but himself and Jacks.

**diquesdick:**  
(puck I hope you're not still at the store)

**puckstothenet:**  
(nope, the wheels on the bus go round and round)

**sweatpantsnopants:**  
Jacks teases his underwear again, then leaves it alone for now. He crosses his arms in front of his body and grabs hold of the hem of his shirt. In one forceful move, he pulls it over his head. From the side of the room, Luc whimpers.

**karlsgod:**  
He slides his hand up his grey tank top and rubs his thumbs over his nipples. "Now you do it," he tells Luc. "C'mon, Chants. I wanna see you feel good for me."

**puckstothenet:**  
"Always, Jacks," Luc says earnestly and then rubs at his nipples through his shirt, slow circles around the stiff peaks of the nubs. Luc's eyes close slowly in pleasure, but then he snaps them open again. Never let it be said that Luc Chantal does not have the self-discipline to make everything just as good as Jacks wants it to be.

**diquesdick:**  
Jacks isn't unaffected by the show, but he knows that the best collaborations happen when everyone gives equally. He slips one strap of his tank top down his shoulder for the sheer show of it, then rolls the tank top up and off. Then he bends down and, wobbling more than usual, picks his jeans off the floor and puts them to the side.

**sweatpantsnopants:**  
This leaves just his boxers and Jacks thinks he should save the best not only for last, but for later. "Your turn," he says to Luc, and mimes shooting a pass at him. Luc mimes receivin g it, because theirs is a marriage of pure unadulterated mutual understanding and bad jokes and always, always hockey.

**karlsgod:**  
"Should I go as slow as you?" Luc asks, eyes wide and innocent, but his lips are slick from licking them and he's smirking. It's the kind of smile that makes NHL GMs break out into a fistfight in a ballroom on international television.

**puckstothenet:**  
"If you think you can," Jacks dares.

**sweatpantsnopants:**  
(gasp!)

**evinesc:**  
(oh no! a dare! what ever shall Chants do!)

**karlsgod:**  
Luc stands up, swaying a little at the abrupt change in position. He adjusts his dick in his shorts and then looks dubiously at his fly. If Jacks hadn't just put his competitive honor on the line, Luc would ask Jacks for a little unnecessary help with it, and then use the opportunity to get his arms around Jacks, maybe grope that ass that's as tight as Montreal's cap space. But he's not going to give a bad showing on his wedding night. That would be worse than losing his lucky socks. It would be worse than touching the Cup before winning it. It would be worse than hotel complimentary breakfasts. A life without challenge is like a meal without protein.

**evinesc:**  
And so Luc is going to _win_ at marital stripteases. He begins by going for the more important step first: off goes the tank. Two nights ago, Jacks had left perfect bite marks all over his biceps and Luc flexes to show them off. Gotta set the stage. Then he builds from such a strong foundation. He pulls the tank top up just enough to show off his abs. He licks his index finger and then runs that finger down his washboard abs. Thus, husbandly attention engaged, Luc runs his palms straight down his sides, and arches his back, his mouth gaping open in a show of arousal that also highlights his exceptional flexibility.

**diquesdick:**  
The audience's attention thus caught, Luc pretends to take the tank top off, only to stop it around his nipples and rub them with the soft, worn cloth. Luc waggles his eyebrows helpfully just in case Jacks didn't understand the secret message.

Jacks understood the secret message.

**puckstothenet:**  
"We'll get there soon," Jacks promises. He idly stretches out his shoulders, one arm across his body and the other coming up across it to hold the stretch, and juts his chin out at Luc as if to ask Luc what's taking so long to get to the good part.

**sweatpantsnopants:**  
And so Luc gets to the good part. He turns around for full effect and he pulls his tank top slowly over his head, flexing his back muscles as much as possible, then he bends down to touch the floor. While he's down there, he peeks at Jacks from between his legs and waves drunkenly. "Hi," he says, coming back up slowly, "we got married." He says it like it's laying out the final card in a royal flush, like he wins automatically beause they did, in fact, get married. But it takes two of them to get married, so he also shimmies out of his shorts, putting every move he's ever learned in a club and in a scrum to work getting as naked as possible. When he feels hands on his hips, helping down his neon green boxer briefs, he knows victory has been achieved. It was a team effort, but Luc was the one who got in the game winning goal. And now it's time to celebrate.

**diquesdick:**  
(we have got to talk about those boxers.)

**sweatpantsnopants:**  
(someone confirmed on instagram it ws a gag gift. why he WORE them, i cannot tell you)

**puckstothenet:**  
(he wore them because it matched his gatorade)

**diquesdick:**  
(I hate that that's probably true)

**karlsgod:**  
Jacks, thinking a few more steps ahead of Luc, knows that if he touches Luc's dick now, they're both going to end up on the floor and not in an intentional way. So he moves with Luc, pressing their bodies together, moving as one, and they topple gently down onto the hotel bed. Luc's arm reaches out and moves around at random until he finds his treasure. He hands one bottle of water to JAcks and keeps one for himself. "Bro, hydration break," Luc decrees. Jacks taps Luc's water bottle with his own and then bite the top upward. He takes a deep swallow, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Then his mouth is on Luc's.

**evinesc:**  
The kiss is sloppy; it's not their best. But it's their best because they're doing it on this day, the first day of the rest of their lives. They've kissed on all their other first and last days: the first day in juniors. The last day in juniors. The day before they were drafted. The day their futures had been spelled out for them in front of the whole world. And now, today, their marriage is another new start. It doesn't matter that they don't connect immediately, that it takes Luc three tries to get his hand around Jacks's dick, or that Jacks accidentally bites Luc's cheek. They won't have many more nights like this before they have to join their respective teams, before they move in to their new billets, before the professional aspects overwhelm all the time they'll have for the personal. There's time later for setting up skype date schedules, for comparing calendars and finding time where they can. Right now, thye have each other. Right now, thye get to touch. And so they're going to touch.

**puckstothenet:**  
Luc does his best to get a good rhythm going on the handjob, but Jacks isn't even trying. He starts giggling the second time he accidentally elbows Luc in the stomach and they have to take a break to try to arrange their limbs properly. Jacks isn't even sure how his boxers got off and when Luc did that trick, but Luc's done weirder tricks. Also, Jacks still isn't even sure how they got back to the hotel from their super-romantic nuptials of excellent bro-itude, so questions of nudity are really not that pressing right now. What's pressing now is his hand against his husband's junk.

**chantinghome:**  
It feels like the orgasm is gone as soon as it happens, like he's barely sure it even happened. But there's the evidence of it over their bodies and Jacks tugs at Luc's hair. "Chants, we gotta go shower." Luc makes a drunken exhausted noise of protest. "The hangover will be worse if we don't," Jacks tries, and then pulls out a tactic that he knows always works. "If we're clean and sober in the morning, with no headaches, I'll fuck you even better than the night after the Memorial Cup." As expected, the promise of having more sex does the trick. Luc pushes himself out of the bed and, together, they stumble toward the bathroom of the hotel suite. It's thankfully not too far. It is, however, too small for two hockey players to fit in together, but they take turns, barely keeping out of a hands-reach the entire time. IF they lose hold of each other, bad things will happen. Jacks not sure what kind of bad things, but maybe divorce kind of bad. He's not risking that.

They're eventually as clean as they're ever going to be, but the bed is way too far. Luc grabs a couple of towels and Jacks gropes his hand around inside the closet by the bathroom to pull out the extra comforter put in there, and they huddle together, partly on the couch, some limbs hanging off onto the floor. It's not the wedding night they'll ever tell anyone about, but it's the one they made together. And tomorrow's the strat of the honeymoon. There's nothing to stop them from a well-desreved sex marathon. They might even manage to be sober for it.

Maybe.

**karlsgod:**  
Good game, everyone. *passes out gatorade*

**puckstothenet:**  
go team!

**diquesdick:**  
Yay!

**Author's Note:**

> [this post on dreamwidth](https://lannamichaels.dreamwidth.org/1060160.html); [this post on tumblr](https://lannamichaels.tumblr.com/post/187360619760/superstitionhockey-everybody-take-it-off-3565)


End file.
